


dance touch remix

by kamsangi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Exhibitionism, M/M, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27831193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamsangi/pseuds/kamsangi
Summary: Hyunjin lets out a breath, long and shuddering. "Door's made of glass.""Fuck the door." Changbin's voice sounds rough around the edges, hoarser than before. "I'll fuck you against the door, if that’s what you want."
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 44
Kudos: 259





	dance touch remix

**Author's Note:**

> just something short going into the week. enjoy.

Unconscious movement overwhelms the conscious. Little, unknowing flutters of the eye. Fidgeting, hands tugging at the hem of a shirt, fingers tapping along the surface of a table. Some things people just don’t notice. Some things, people just miss.

Some things—well, some things, people just don’t want to acknowledge.

Changbin notices far too many of these things. He’s more observant than people give him credit for. It comes with the territory, with being someone who spends hours pouring over lyrics in search of the tiniest details to mark out with the soft scratch of a pencil, with being someone who sits and listens when people speak and commits it all to memory.

All these little habits, these little tics. Changbin notices, Changbin knows these things.

He also knows Hyunjin. He knows Hyunjin too well. It isn’t surprising at all, considering how much time they’ve spent together over the course of knowing each other. From the early days of becoming friends as trainees, to getting to know each other better outside of a practice room, to speeding ahead in search of a greater dream.

It’s only been three years, but there’s already so much that they’ve shared.

It’s Wednesday night. He wouldn’t be practicing, usually, but he always gets a little guilty about leaving Hyunjin to practice on his own, especially when he sees just how much Hyunjin does. How much he pushes himself to make sure he has every single step in his mind, able to be replicated the way he wants his body to.

From outside, he can hear the slightest bit of a tune sifting through the crack in the door frame. He places his hand on the door handle and feels the bass shuddering through, the beat of the song they’d been working on for the performance that’s coming up.

Changbin pushes the door open, and slips in.

The music doesn’t stop. Hyunjin doesn’t look up. He’s wholly concentrated on one thing and one thing only, and it’s perfection.

Changbin catches Hyunjin’s gaze in the mirrors, and slips easily into position, folding himself into the dance, right alongside Hyunjin. It’s a neat little trick they’ve developed, being able to guess each other’s next move. Changbin’s not a dancer by any means, not the way Hyunjin or Minho or Felix are, but they’ve practiced with each other for so long that Changbin just knows what Hyunjin will do next. What his next move is. Where his feet will meet the floor after.

But there's always that one percent—that little off-chance that he can’t guess what either of them are about to do. And it happens. The both of them, stepping around each other in choreographed moves that are like clockwork to them now. The space between them, unending—right up until Changbin turns a little too sharply, and Hyunjin shifts in to the right a little too much.

Changbin catches Hyunjin across the side, one arm curling around his waist, their faces almost smashing together.

A breath passes. Maybe two. Changbin can’t count, not with Hyunjin so close. They stand like that for less than two seconds, but by the time they pull apart to fall back into what they’d been doing, it’s too late to ignore it. The human body is awfully telltale. The marks of arousal are easy to spot, once you’ve experienced them yourself. Hyunjin’s eyes, narrowing. Pupils, dilating. Steps, tensing.

Changbin’s pulse, skyrocketing.

The song ends, and Hyunjin moves wordlessly to repeat it, a single press of his forefinger against the screen of his phone, before placing himself next to Changbin again, avoiding his eyes.

This time, Changbin makes his movements more deliberate. He skirts closer, skims just a little out of position, purposefully drags his fingers along the back of Hyunjin’s arm at one point, just to see what kind of reaction he can get out of him. Goosebumps, perhaps. A jerky little shake of his elbow to rid himself of the feeling, maybe. A shudder. A pause. A long, hard breath.

He doesn’t expect Hyunjin to move closer. He doesn’t expect Hyunjin to start playing the same game he’s playing. Careful little steps that take them close but not too close, cautious movements that always begin with a light brush and end with touches that move closer off the edge of friendly territory and into waters that scream danger.

Changbin has no life-vest. It doesn’t matter. He could drown in the music guiding their movements if it means having Hyunjin dance like that as close as possible to him. Edging him off the rails. The unconscious little game, being played consciously. Remnants of a night’s practice, chipping away into something uncontainable.

The song sweeps into the bridge, and Changbin sweeps into Hyunjin’s space, breaking choreography. It doesn’t surprise him when Hyunjin adapts quicker than Changbin can give him credit for, twisting out of the way and stepping on Changbin’s shoe instead, most definitely on purpose.

Changbin holds back a swear, and rolls his eyes. Trust Hyunjin to be difficult, he thinks, throwing all caution out the window as he snatches Hyunjin’s wrist up and tugs him in, catching Hyunjin completely off-guard as he stumbles into his grip.

And then, Hyunjin is all his.

“Handsy today,” Hyunjin says, not moving a single inch. Challenging, as he always is. “You gonna tell me what you’re thinking?”

Changbin runs a knuckle down Hyunjin's spine ever so gently; he presses his lips to Hyunjin's pulse and whispers, "I've always thought you looked best dancing. Here. Like this."

A soft sigh is the reply he gets before Hyunjin leans back against him, and tilts his head. Hyunjin's hands slot into place over Changbin's, fingers curling together, pulling his arms tighter around him. "With you?"

"Anywhere," says Changbin, “with anyone,” tracing the line of Hyunjin's jaw with the tip of his nose. Changbin can't help the sigh that escapes his mouth next as he kisses Hyunjin's pale throat. "God, Hyunjin."

Hyunjin lets out a breath, long and shuddering. "Door's made of glass."

Anyone could see. He’s almost certain they’re the only two people on this floor, though. No one else is coming in tonight, he’s almost certain.

"Fuck the door." Changbin's voice sounds rough around the edges, hoarser than before. "I'll fuck you against the door, if that’s what you want."

"Shit," breathes Hyunjin, the only word he gets out before he turns completely to kiss Changbin in full. There's a momentary struggle. Neither of them know what for. Then, Changbin has Hyunjin's lower lip between his teeth, and Hyunjin is letting out the sweetest whimper he's ever heard in his life.

"Hyunjin," says Changbin, a little desperate, a little in love, and Hyunjin kisses him harder, throwing them both off balance until they're stumbling into the mirrors.

Changbin's hand shoots out for balance, landing right on the glass. He can see how wrecked the both of them look, a mess of sweat and tension and the desire that fans true in their veins. God, does he want Hyunjin. So, so much. God, does he ever.

"Please," murmurs Hyunjin, leaning in with that doe-eyed expression, asking for another kiss. His lips are so soft, so warm. Changbin could kiss him all his life, until their lungs and their knees and their hearts give out. "Changbin, please."

He doesn’t even need to say Changbin's name. Changbin will still kiss him anyway.

 _Touch me,_ says every motion of Hyunjin's hands sliding against Changbin's skin. _Touch me like I'm the only thing you can touch, like everything else burns you. Kiss me like I'm burning you too, until you can't stand going without me._ Changbin leans in until their bodies are lined up, almost parallel, from forehead to knees. Changbin kisses him again, rolling his hips up against Hyunjin's, feeling the way he jerks up against Changbin too.

“We should go somewhere else,” breathes Hyunjin, and Changbin echoes his agreement, but seconds pass and neither of them make a move. Not to pull away, not to open the door. “We should,” repeats Hyunjin, but his hand is tightening over Changbin’s wrist, his voice wavering.

They don’t kiss leisurely, they don’t take their time. There’s a minor fumble as Hyunjin ends up skidding over to the couch to rummage through his bag, and Changbin checks the lock on the door twice over.

He crowds Hyunjin up against the mirrors again the moment he comes back over, a moment’s pause hanging between them as they take in the situation: Hyunjin, breathing hard against Changbin’s mouth. Changbin, leaning in with each second that passes. Then, Hyunjin says, “You said you’d fuck me against the door. Was that a promise, or am I gonna be disappointed?”

Changbin nips at his lip, watching the way Hyunjin’s pupils blow out, dark and unending. “Maybe not the door,” he says, “but right here, with you watching yourself. You’re into that, aren’t you?”

“Fuck off,” Hyunjin hisses, no heat behind the words. Changbin’s breath hitches when Hyunjin reaches down to palm at the hard line of his dick through his sweatpants, warmth on warmth, almost skin on skin. It’s not enough, it’s never enough. “Like you’re not about to get off to the exact same thing.”

He’s right. Of course he is. No one else knows him better.

“Turn around,” Changbin says, and Hyunjin complies, shoving his shorts down.

Changbin pins him against the mirrors and fucks him good and slow. His fingers first, pushing deep inside him until Hyunjin’s pushing back up against him, whining for more. Lotion trickles down the inside of Hyunjin’s thighs, pre-come dripping onto the wooden floor, and Changbin nearly goes dizzy with the desire to kneel down and lick it right up, to know the way Hyunjin tastes in this very moment.

His fingers, and then the head of his cock, a slow, steady push into Hyunjin, whose sweat-slick palms leave impressions in the fog of his breath against the mirrors. Changbin feels his heart come to a stop in his throat at the tight heat of Hyunjin’s ass squeezing around his cock like a slick, velvety clamp.

The words won’t come. Changbin’s mouth falls open, but all he can do is clutch at Hyunjin’s hip and tug him back onto him with each thrust. His chest against Hyunjin’s arched, gorgeous back, their pulses synching. Hyunjin’s cheek pressed against the glass as he shudders and whimpers and moves back against him. He’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, there’s no one else like him, no one with Hyunjin’s lithe, perfect body, no one else who could make those perfect little sounds, no one else for him.

Changbin presses his mouth against the nape of Hyunjin’s neck, buries his nose in Hyunjin’s hair, licks at his overheated skin, against his throat with every roll of his hips. He scores the edges of his teeth along the curve of Hyunjin’s shoulder to track each time Hyunjin says his name. _Changbin, Changbin, Changbin,_ like he knows no other word.

Hyunjin pants against the mirrors, his breath hot and wet, one hand on his own cock as he jerks himself off in time with Changbin’s thrusts. Changbin doesn’t stop him even if he’d rather see Hyunjin come from only getting fucked. He needs this, needs to see Hyunjin’s face in the mirror when he comes. Desperation’s driven him to many things, but never like this. Nothing like this.

The thrill of seeing and being seen is heady and exhausting. Changbin forces his own eyes open to meet Hyunjin’s gaze in the mirrors. “Look at you,” he says, and Hyunjin sucks in a hard breath, skin flushed. “Look at us.”

It feels obscene to watch themselves like this, everything else forgotten, both of them on the brink of losing themselves to the never-ending chase of the high.

Anyone could walk past. Anyone could see.

No one does.

Changbin fits his fingers into the gaps between Hyunjin’s own on his cock and strokes, biting at Hyunjin’s ear. His other hand sweeps up Hyunjin’s chest, thumbing at his nipple. He pinches, and Hyunjin bites his lip hard and comes, the veins in his neck straining as he pushes his forehead against the mirrors in an attempt to hold himself in place.

It doesn’t work. Hyunjin shivers through it, bucking himself back onto Changbin’s cock and clenching down each time he does. Changbin sets his teeth into a well-worn bruise on Hyunjin’s shoulder and shoves himself in deep, a whimper trapped in the back of his mouth in the shape of Hyunjin’s name as he spills inside him, pleasure curling and cresting until it’s all he knows.

Finally, Changbin reaches up to lace the fingers of their other hand together and presses a kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek when Hyunjin laughs breathlessly, the way he always does when he’s genuinely happy.

It’s all he ever wants to know.

**Author's Note:**

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